And So Is Love
by shades of scarlet and gold
Summary: Sequel to Tomatoes are Red/ Lovino really wished he hadn't cared about Antonio's health./For Windup-Charmer


_A/N: Requested by _Windup-Charmer,_ who wanted a sequel to _Tomatoes are Red. _Yeah, it's a fail, I wrote it at night. And it's short. Ugh. Reviews are loved._

* * *

And so is Love

"Tomato bastard, I'm coming in here whether you fucking like it or not!" were the first words that Antonio Fernandez Carriedo heard on Valentine's Day this year. The reason for his lack of courting Lovino on such a fine day was due to the fact that the Spaniard was sick.

A cold. Achoo.

And the only thing stronger than Antonio's desire for Lovino, was his desire to keep Lovino safe from harm and other dangers.

And, of course, the only thing stronger than that was Antonio's usage of the word 'desire' anytime Lovino was involved. A synonym for desire was want. Such as : Antonio wants his Lovi. _Now_.

Of course, as Antonio heard those thirteen words he immediately though of his precious Italian. Though, if anyone still coherent was present, they would quickly notice that Antonio always daydreamed of Lovino and the voice could only be part of that reverie he was currently caught in, one where Lovino was twirling in a dress…

However, Antonio was not yet ill enough to realise that Lovino, ever scowling, had barged into his house and was standing at the foot of his bed, trying to suppress a relieved look.

"LOVI~" yelled the simple minded Spaniard, utterly forgetting that he wished to keep Lovino germ free and that this was his ulterior motive for not spending the holiday with his beloved. Not that Lovino would admit that he was Antonio's beloved.

"Get o-off m-me you damn bastard!" Lovino cursed as he pushed the taller man off him in disgust. Why did he have to check on this idiot again? He didn't care if he died. Really, he didn't. But if that was so, why did he feel so bad about thinking it? (His excuse: damn brain.)

Antonio drew back pouting, like a begging puppy who wanted his love. "Oh, Lovi, you came to see me!" he cried, forgetting his one moment of hurt, feeling so flattered that his heart would have jumped out of his chest if that were actually possible.

Lovino, who felt insulted that Antonio would assume that was his only reason (which, it was), retorted angrily, "B-bastard! I only came here to make sure you hadn't died!" he cried, his only functioning excuse for the moment being.

However, this only pleased Antonio more. "Oh, Lovi~" he cried, waving his muscular, tanned arms with a sudden burst of ardour, "You care about me! But you don't have to worry, _mi querido tomate, _for I am safe and well!"

Lovino turned red enough to put a stop sign to shame. And no, not because he was embarrassed, it was because he was pissed. This idiot would never stop calling him a tomato, would he?

"Well, now that you are here, we must make use of it!" Antonio proposed, grinning at his plan like it was the best thing since sliced bread, or, in Antonio's case, since Lovino Vargas.

"I-I'd rather not…" began Lovino. He was really starting to regret ever deciding to visit Antonio.

However, once the idea came to Antonio, there was nothing in Lovino's (weak) power to halt it. "I know," Antonio added, ignoring Lovino's earlier comment, "You liked my poem, didn't you? Maybe you could write one for me!" he exclaimed, grinning madly at the idea. "Don't you like the sound of that, Lovi~?"

Lovino would have normally argued, but he knew better than to argue with Antonio. "Whatever. And I'm only doing this because I want to, _not _for your own pleasure," he added malevolently.

Antonio nodded, still smiling goofily. Lovino could have just threatened to kill him and Antonio would have still reacted the same. It was something about love - or obsession - that made everything sound so pleasing, like a choir of angels singing just for you.

Pleasant.

Lovino cleared his throat, stalling, and began, "Tomatoes are delicious [it pleased Antonio to hear that both of their poems began with the word 'tomato'], This is stupid, Your idea is idiotic, and so are you."

Antonio, ignoring the younger Italian's insult, clapped his hands, "Oh Lovi~ that was the sweetest thing I ever heard! And I can tell it came straight from your heart!"

Yes, Lovino dearly regretted his choice for deciding to check on the Spaniard's welfare.

Another genius idea in mind, Antonio swung his arm around Lovino's and dragged him to the door.

"W-where are we going tomato bastard?"

Antonio smiled, "Since you are already here, I thought it would be fun to spend the rest of the day together~ We will eat at a restaurant, then come back here for some more, if you get what I mean," he grinned, thinking already of the pleasures yet to come.

Lovino gulped, _not _looking forward to this.

* * *

As the two arrived at a small, local diner, they were greeted by a brunette waitress who introduced herself as a certain Elisabeta Hérdeváry. She was pretty, though Antonio preferred the Italian in front of him who was annoyed with the situation.

Elisabeta seemed rather eager to serve the two, and every time Antonio tried to plant a kiss on Lovino's cheek (a cry of "get off, bastard!" could be heard), a flash came from the area near her right hand and a burst of giggles came from her direction.

After enduring the time at the diner (along with stares from other couples) the two managed to return home in one piece. By then, however, Antonio was practically dragging Lovino by his arm into the house. Once they were inside, Antonio pushed himself atop of Lovino (who claimed - _lied_ was more like it - that he did not enjoy the situation), and murmured, "I've been waiting all day for this."

Lovino would never admit that he enjoyed what later happened to him. Because it never happened.

And if Elisabeta dared say anything, he would kill her.


End file.
